


Poker Night

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: A Breath of Home [53]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 21:18:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Ryan meet at the San Diego Comic Con and hot sex ensues.  In this chapter, the boys spend an evening with Ryan's castmates which ends in their first roleplay.</p><p>
  <i>"Do you know what I'd give for a few minutes of anonymity?" Sam murmurs, biting at Ryan's mouth, one hand slipped between them, grasping Ryan's cock through his jeans. "Push you down over the hood and fuck you right here." It's still a fantasy but hell, it sounds so fucking good.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poker Night

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone familiar with the [RPG Citadel](http://www.journalfen.net/community/citadel/friends), this is NOT backstory for our pups in the game. In Citadel, Sam is played as the actor and Ryan is played AU as a songwriter. And then a little birdie told us our boys were going to be at SDCC at the same time in real life and we couldn't pass up the opportunity to see what would happen in another world, with the boys both as their actor selves.

"...And then there's Jeff, who's one of the cameramen. We're always pranking each other. One time I put minced jalapenos in the cap of his water bottle. So he went to take a drink, and of course it burned his mouth. So then he went to wash out his mouth with another drink of water, and it just spread the burn... Fucking hilarious. He got me back, though," Ryan explains, signaling left and then taking the turn into a modest residential neighborhood in Los Angeles. "One day I was on set for something like sixteen hours, start to finish. And then, finally, I went out to the lot at the end of the day... and he had filled my car with those damn styrofoam packing peanuts. I mean fucking _filled_ it, you know?" He grins over at his lover. "I opened the door, and they just spilled all over the fucking place. I still found a couple under the mats in the back just last year. Someone even posted pictures of it."

Sam laughs, shaking his head. "So is that what actors do when they're not fucking their coworkers?" he teases. "Prank each other?"

"I guess," Ryan says with a snicker and a shrug. "I wouldn't know, I've never fucked a coworker."

"Never?" Sam asks, because even though he was just kidding around... damn.

"Nah, never." Ryan looks at Sam curiously, wondering at the tone of his voice. "Wait. You mean, you have? Who?" The curiosity might just kill him.

"Eva, Liam, a few others," Sam says, quickly changing the subject. "So, who's hosting the game tonight?"

 _A few others?_ Ryan isn't quite ready to let the topic go. "I dated an actress I was working with, when we were teenagers. We never even got to the fucking part, because just dating caused so much drama and tension at work. It's because of that experience that I haven't dated a coworker since then." He looks at Sam. "How did you keep it from messing things up for you on set?"

Sam rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "Well, I wasn't exactly dating any of those people. We just fucked around."

"Ahh." Ryan nods in enlightenment. Really, he should know better than to just assume that fucking equals dating. "Um, Jim, in answer to your question. You know, Hoyt? He's a really cool guy. We're good friends."

"And everyone knows you're bringing your boyfriend?" Sam asks, wanting to make sure before he meets them all.

"I think I used the phrase 'man I'm dating,' but yeah," Ryan agrees, slowing down and trying to figure out where he's going to park on the crowded street. "I didn't tell them we're living together, because I didn't know just how serious you want people to know that we are. Before you meet them, anyway."

"I think if they ask us how long we've been dating, they'll get the serious part," Sam says with a smile.

"Good point." Ryan grins, smug as all hell in an instant. He smoothly pulls up to the curb and kills the engine, then checks out the rear window. "We're, like, a block away," he says with a shake of his head, then fists his hand in Sam's shirt and pulls him in close for a quick kiss.

Sam grins and kisses Ryan back, sliding a hand up into his hair for a moment.

It's easy - way too easy - for Ryan to get caught up in the kiss. In Sam's mouth, his flavour, the seductive warmth of his lips. "Are you any good at poker?" he mutters, nibbling on Sam's bottom lip. "Because we could just give the whole thing a miss. Go back to yours and take all our clothes off..."

"You don't think we should make some effort to be sociable?" Sam teases.

"I'm pretty sure that's over-rated," Ryan replies, his mouth quirking in a grin. Then he sits back with a sigh. "Of course, they're all expecting to meet you. If we don't show, I'll only catch hell at work all next week."

"We wouldn't want that," Sam says, although truth be told, he kind of wants to meet everyone. Have them all know he's the fucking guy who snagged Ryan for his own.

"Right." Licking one last time at Sam's lips, Ryan eases away, hooking the six-pack from the backseat and climbing out of the car. "Can you grab the salsa?"

"Sure." Sam grabs the serving dish and meets Ryan on the sidewalk. "Next time, I should get you to make double." Already resenting the fact he's going to have to share.

Ryan laughs. He loves how appreciative Sam is about his cooking. "Have you ever had Rabbit On The Road?" he asks his lover as they walk. "It's an amazing dip. You take cream cheese and warm it up in the microwave, then pour red salsa all over it. It tastes incredible." Grinning, he bumps Sam with his elbow. "And if you use green salsa, then it's Week-old Rabbit On The Road."

Sam groans. "That's horrible. Fuck." He laughs, shaking his head.

"It's delicious," Ryan counters. "Ten bucks says that if I make it for you, then you lick the plate."

"I'm not taking that bet," Sam says, nudging Ryan with his shoulder and laughing even harder.

Ryan just grins. "God, you've got the sexiest laugh. Have I ever told you that?" he asks in a murmur as they walk up the path to Jim's house. "I think I have." He rings the doorbell.

Sam grins, so fucking tempted to kiss Ryan right here, right now. "You can tell me all you want," he says instead, deciding to behave himself, especially when the door starts to open.

"Hey, Ry! Come on--" Jim's smile of greeting freezes in disbelief. "No fucking way. Are you...?"

"Jim, this is my boyfriend Sam," Ryan says, carefully quiet enough that it stays between them. But loud enough that, he hopes, Jim will quit acting like an ass. "Sam, Jim."

"...Oh, yeah," Jim says after another moment of staring. "Yeah, of course. Good to meet you, Sam." He beckons them inside, finally stepping back from the doorway.

"Good to meet you too," Sam says with a smile. "I'm a huge fan of the show," he adds, following Ryan into the house.

"Thanks. Me, too. Oh hey -- is that salsa?" Jim points at the bowl in Sam's hand, but gets distracted in an instant. "Guys! Kwanten's here!" he yells, his voice booming into the depths of his house. "With his boyfriend!"

"Oh my god," Ryan mutters, shutting his eyes and silently praying for patience.

Sam just laughs, handing over the salsa to Jim. He nudges his shoulder against Ryan's and takes his lover's hand. "Get used to it," he tells him with a grin.

They follow Jim into the dining room, where a diverse group of Ryan's coworkers rings the table. "Hi," Ryan says, but he doubts anyone hears him when they're so busy calling out greetings -- and whispering to each other. "Beer," he announces, setting the six-pack on the table, and nods hello like this is all just the same-old.

"Uhh, Sam," he says, pitching his voice loud enough to be heard over the mob, and begins pointing people out. "That's Jeff, Tomek, you know Jim, Kelly, Katrina -- she's Jim's wife, don't hit on her," Katrina giggles like a schoolgirl, and it tugs a smile onto Ryan's face, "and Frain. I mean, he's a Jim too, but Parrack came first, so he gets the name."

"Which is completely unfair, since I've got about fifteen years on him," Frain says, his voice thick with Leeds.

"Yeah." Ryan shrugs, and gives Sam a grin. "Everyone, this is Sam. Don't hit on him either."

Sam chuckles at that and takes the time to shake everyone's hand, trying to memorize all the names and relations. "It's good to meet you guys," he says with a smile, waiting for Ryan to take a seat before he sits down beside him.

Ryan ducks his head to hide how his grin twists, turning almost bashful. Almost. He tries to cover by handing Sam a cold beer, then opening one for himself. Breaking open a new pack of classic Bicycle playing cards, he begins to shuffle the deck. But it seems his friends aren't even going to wait on the obnoxious question bombardment.

"Wait. Boyfriend?" Tomek asks, and squints at Jim like he's sure he heard that wrong.

"You didn't know that?" Katrina retorts. "Jason Stackhouse is totally gay."

"Guys..." Ryan lets out a tired sigh. He's known Katrina as long as they've been filming True Blood, so he takes her teasing in kind. But _still_.

"I told you not to talk about that," Jim hisses at his wife.

"Tom brought it up--"

"Yeah, but. Seriously?"

"Whoa, did Ryan make that?" Jeff cuts in with a gesture at the salsa, clearly attempting to tactfully distract them all. "Where the hell are the chips?"

"Dude, it's _Sam Fucking Worthington_ ," Tomek stage-whispers, and Ryan rolls his eyes.

"Guys. Chill the fuck out, all right?" Ryan slaps the deck in front of Frain for him to cut. "We're just here to play poker."

"And looose," Frain sing-songs, giving Sam a grin. He begins to deal. "Everyone ante up."

Sam just chuckles and takes everything in stride. "Who usually wins?" he asks, taking a peek at his cards. "Is one of you a big poker shark?"

"Him," Jeff answers, sliding a few stacks of poker chips over to Sam, and everyone else pretty much unanimously points to Frain.

"Texas Hold'em?" Frain asks, although it's pretty clear that it's a rhetorical question.

With a nod of agreement, Ryan tosses a red chip into the center of the table. "Fifty ante after the blinds," he murmurs to Sam, not sure he told him before, although he did remember to grab enough cash to cover both of them for the evening. "Some of us play for charity," he explains, checking out his cards. He shoots Tomek a smirk. "And then some of us play because we got in trouble with our new girlfriends and owe them a big piece of something shiny."

Tomek groans. "I didn't _know_ that was her cat. It was just roaming around the neighborhood! And I'm telling you, the thing is so fucking ugly that I just figured it was a stray."

Snickering, Jim pushes a couple chips into the pot.

"Um. A hundred," Ryan says, tossing in some chips of his own.

"Ryan," Frain murmurs, "what have we said about intelligent poker etiquette? You don't start your bet with 'um'."

Sam chuckles. "I'll see your hundred and... raise you fifty," he says, checking on his cards once more.

Tomek grumbles and pushes his chips around for a few seconds before matching Sam's bet, and play continues around the table. "Burning," Frain announces, flipping over three of the cards in the middle of the table. "And that's what we've got to work with, ladies and gentlemen."

"Bugger," Ryan mutters, frowning at the cards.

" _Ryan_ ," Frain snaps reproachfully, and Kelly giggles. "You're an actor, for god's sake. Fucking act."

Sam laughs and nudges his shoulder against Ryan's. "I'll have to remember you don't have a poker face," he tells him with a smile.

"You didn't know that yet?" Jeff mutters, and snorts a soft laugh.

"How long have you been dating?" Kelly asks, pretty sure that everyone's wondering the same thing, so surely it won't hurt to ask.

"A while," Ryan replies, pushing more chips into the center to meet Jim's bet -- even though he's pretty certain he's got nothing but a handful of rubbish. "Since June of last year."

"Oh, my god," Katrina blurts out. "That long?"

"You son of a motherfucking bitch," Jim whispers, stunned at the answer. "He's the one you've been so secretive about all this time?"

Ryan shrugs. "Yeah."

"We met at Comic-Con," Sam supplies helpfully, hoping to take the attention off his lover. "And it wasn't too serious at first," he lies, at least for his part, "so I think we've both been pretty close-mouthed about it."

"Or, wait. Was Comic-Con in July?" Ryan muses, casting his memory back. Now that they're, like, officially living together, he should probably keep better track of their various anniversaries.

"Yeah, there's that," Katrina agrees, grinning at Sam. "And then there's the thing about how no one knows you two are gay."

"Actually, we're not," Sam says, grinning back. "Not that it would make a fucking difference if anyone found out, but we're both bisexual."

"You're... wait, what?" Kelly murmurs, blinking at Sam. Then she shakes herself. "Sorry," she says, and lays her cards facedown on the table. "Sorry, my mind just went all sorts of dirty places."

"Kel!" Jeff looks at his girlfriend in consternation.

"I know, right?" Katrina exclaims over Kelly's muttered apologies, her grin wide. "So. Hot."

"Fuckin' Christ," Jim groans, although he doesn't exactly seem surprised by his wife's enthusiasm.

Frain just snickers. "Show 'em, everyone."

Ryan bites his bottom lip, trying to swallow a grin. "Pair of jacks."

Sam tips his hand. "Three of a kind," he says -- his two kings plus one on the table.

Tomek and Kelly both show their hands - Jeff folded before the last round of betting - and then Frain reaches out and flicks Ryan, hard, in the temple. "You actually bet on a pair of jacks? Moron." 

Jim snickers and lays down his own cards, drawing down the three from the flop. "Heart flush."

Ryan groans, watching Jim gather in all the chips from the center of the table. "Tom bet on a pair of queens, ace high," he points out. "How come I'm the only one who gets physically assaulted?"

"I think we're all betting on a pair of queens right now--" Tomek begins, pointing at Ryan and Sam, but Frain just raises his voice to be heard over him.

"Because you can pay attention when you feel like it," Frain tells Ryan, handing Kelly the deck for shuffling. "Tom is a moron _all_ the time."

It's awfully tempting to flick Frain back - or tell him to keep his hands off Ryan, period - but Sam figures they've all been doing this long enough he shouldn't interfere. Besides which, his lover might not actually thank him for stepping in when he can handle himself.

Play continues around the table, with each person in turn posting the blinds - so that it's not always the same two people seeding the pot - and then taking on the role of dealer. Ryan loses every hand, but hey, he knew he would. He doesn't come to these things to win. He does laugh and enjoy his friends and his beer, and as the evening progresses he realizes that he's been shifting closer and closer to Sam as time passed, so that he's damn near snuggled up against his side now. _God_. He's just so damn happy to be 'out' with their relationship.

And, there's the thing about how drinking alcohol always makes him kissy.

"Hey," Sam murmurs, grinning, his eyes sparkling as he notices just how close Ryan's gotten. "You having a good time?" he asks, gaze flickering to his lover's mouth, figuring it's a decent time to ask since everyone's taking a break to hit the loo or grab another beer.

"Yeah. I'm only down about five hundred," Ryan murmurs, and shrugs. "I've had worse nights." He grins and lets his fingers rest lightly on Sam's nape. "What about you? Are you okay with all this?"

Sam nods. "I like your mates," he says, leaning a little closer still. "Although if Frain flicks you again, I'm gonna fuckin' deck him."

Ryan huffs a laugh in surprise. "Don't do that," he murmurs, "I have to work with him. Actually... Nah, his character's dead. I _probably_ won't have to work with him again." He grins, and can't resist leaning in close to slowly draw his tongue along the side of Sam's neck.

A soft groan spills from Sam's lips and his grin widens. "You're gonna get yourself in trouble," he murmurs.

"Who, me?" Ryan grazes his lips over the pulse beating in Sam's neck, his lover hot and vital. "What'd I do?"

"Tease your boyfriend," Sam responds, body responding eagerly to Ryan's mouth. "Get him thinking about dragging you into some dark corner so he can have his way with you..."

Those evocative words make Ryan honest-to-god shiver. "I... Yeah, I'm pretty sure we can find one. A corner, I mean," he murmurs, slipping his other hand up to tangle in Sam's short hair.

"--But that was the _last_ play, and McCormack, god, he fucked it up so royally, you wouldn't even fucking believe," Jim says, gesturing wildly with his hands as he enters the dining room, Jeff following behind.

"Nah, I knew McCormack was a weak spot," Jeff says with a shake of his head. "Oh." He blinks at Ryan and Sam, then turns to head back into the kitchen.

"No, it's--"

"Um, sorry dude," Jim says, looking down and finally noticing that he interrupted something. "But, um. I think everyone's headed back in for the next round."

"Oh, man. I'm done," Ryan replies, pushing to his feet. He starts counting up the chips he has left, and then Sam's, doing the math in his head until he determines just how much money their net loss was this evening. Flipping through the bills in his wallet, he counts them out and then hands the stack of cash over to Jim, in care for their banker. "Give that to Jeff, yeah?" He smiles and gives Jim a quick hug. "Love you, man. It's always a blast."

"It was good to meet you. I had a great time," Sam says, holding out his hand again. "Say our goodbyes for us?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, but... Okay." Jim nods and shakes Sam's hand. "Thanks for joining us all tonight, that was really fucking cool of you."

Ryan grins and, as soon as Sam's hand is free again, he links their fingers together. He's buzzed, probably shouldn't be driving them home, but unfortunately that's a detail that's just getting lost in the rush right now. A dark corner, damn. Somehow they make it out onto the front step, the door swinging shut behind them, and Ryan is already heading down the block to find his car.

The street's empty, the night dark, lit only by stars, every other car parked, people inside. Sam pushes Ryan up against the driver's side door and kisses him, hard, grinding against his lover.

Ryan whimpers in surprise, the sound muffled by Sam's lips. But he catches up in a second, one hand tangled in Sam's hair and the other fisted in his shirt. Fuck, he's been needing to jump Sam for _hours_.

"Do you know what I'd give for a few minutes of anonymity?" Sam murmurs, biting at Ryan's mouth, one hand slipped between them, grasping Ryan's cock through his jeans. "Push you down over the hood and fuck you right here." It's still a fantasy but hell, it sounds so fucking good.

Ryan moans and hitches one leg up to wrap around Sam's waist. "Maybe... maybe we could make it work," he says softly, his better judgment long drunk away. "A friend of mine has a gigantic house and it's set really far back from the road, with a private driveway. We could pretend..." he shrugs, hoping Sam won't think that's just the stupidest idea ever.

"Yeah?" Sam pulls back a little, the better to see Ryan's face in the dim light. "Close to here?"

"Like, fifteen minutes?" Ryan looks at Sam in question, but hell, his body has already gone ahead and voted _yes_ without him; he's practically vibrating with need. "I could give her a quick call."

Fuck. Sam slides his hand over the hard ridge of Ryan's cock once more then forces himself to step away. "Do it."

Ryan grits his teeth and swallows a moan. Unlocking the car doors, he slides into the driver's seat, already pulling out his phone. "Hey, Celia," he says after her line rings a few times. "It's Ryan. Yeah, I know but I knew you'd be up anyway. Uh-huh. No, everything's fine. Yeah. I just, um. I'm going to come loiter in your driveway for a bit, okay?" He grimaces when she asks the very reasonable question, _Why?_ "Just... I'm just showing my friend some of the amazing houses in your neighborhood. No, stay in your pajamas, we won't even bother you. Just don't call the police on me, all right?" Nervous, he chews on his bottom lip as he waits for her reply. "Okay, awesome, thanks. Yeah, girl, talk soon." He glances aside to check that Sam's buckled up, and gives his lover a quick grin. Then he starts the engine.

"So, where do you know Celia from?" Sam asks, watching Ryan. Still amused at the phone call.

"We used to train together," Ryan answers, glancing aside at his lover before he pulls into the scant - for Los Angeles - traffic. "I actually knew her girlfriend, Anne, first. She's a casting agent. I met with her and mentioned during the audition that I used to box when I was younger, and that I still train hard. She told me that her girlfriend kept firing all her personal trainers because she thought they treated her like she would break." He shakes his head, chuckling softly in memory. "Celia's tiny. She's tough, though. So I worked out with her a couple times, and we got to be really good friends." Now he frowns in memory. "But I didn't score that fucking role."

"No?" Ryan's so talented Sam can't imagine anyone not having the sense to cast him. "Was it one you really wanted?"

"I wanted them all. I was sleeping on a yoga mat in a supply closet at the time," Ryan answers, grinning. "I'm so fucking glad those days are behind me. I mean, they taught me not to complain, sure..."

Sam laughs. "You in your closet, me in my car..." he shakes his head. "Fuck. The things we're willing to do as actors."

"Ahh, but just look at what a glamorous pay-off we get now. I'm constantly being asked to humiliate myself on screen for an audience of millions, you have this amazing soundtrack of ear-splitting shrieking wherever you go..." Ryan grins crookedly. Then he glances at Sam, and his smile widens. "Life is sweet."

"Damn right it is," Sam agrees, reaching over to put his hand on Ryan's leg, fingers working their way up the inside of his thigh. "And it's about to get even sweeter."

Glancing down, Ryan damn near gets distracted by Sam's hand, before he yanks his focus back to the road. _Fuck_. He's already a little out there from all the beer he drank tonight, and now his body is all charged up with lust, and driving is pretty much the last thing he's got any brain cells left over for. It's a good thing they're in a fairly remote part of L.A., a hill covered with private gated estates; if you don't live up here, you really don't have any reason to be up here. Carefully pulling over to one of the towering scrolled ironwork gates, Ryan pushes the discreet bell for the house.

"Yeah?" The tinny voice issues from the callbox.

"Hey, Celia, it's me," Ryan says. "Open up?"

"Okay, Kwanten, you're in," she says, and gate buzzes into motion, sliding back into its recessed track in the wall. "But tomorrow I want an explanation."

"Deal," he says with a laugh, even as he shakes his head at Sam.

He pulls slowly into the driveway and the gate closes once more behind him. About one hundred fifty feet down the so-called driveway and they're in the middle of a citrus orchard, with no electrical lights anywhere. He kills the engine and glances over at Sam, unsure what to do now.

Sam grins. "Are you really gonna tell her why?" he asks, curious.

"My kinky boyfriend and I wanted to get our freak on, but he's so fuckin' famous that we can't afford to have anyone call the cops when he's pounding the screams right out of me," Ryan recites, like he's trying the explanation on for size. He shakes his head. "...Yeah, I don't think so."

He gets out of his aged white Toyota and leans against the windowsill to talk to his lover. "Hot car," he says, which right there should tell Sam that he's fooling around. "You feeling lonely tonight, Mister?"

"Might be," Sam says slowly, a small smile curving his lips as he looks Ryan up and down. "You offering to keep me company?"

Ryan shrugs. "Maybe." He sticks tongue firmly in cheek. "If your price is right."

"Yeah?" Sam grins. "What's a hundred get me?"

"A hundred?" Ryan's teasing smile transforms into a smirk. "That gets you a hello. And a goodbye."

Sam laughs. "Okay. Why don't you tell me where I should start?"

Ryan tips his head to the side and runs a hand - as if casually - down the length of his throat... and then brushes his fingers over his lips. "Five hundred for my mouth," he decides, and raises one eyebrow, pinning Sam with his gaze. "For seven-fifty, I'll let you come on my face. I don't swallow."

"And if I want to fuck you?" Sam asks, considering his options carefully.

"Fuck me?" Ryan snorts a laugh of disbelief. "What makes you think I do that?"

Sam shrugs. "I've got a few thousand that says you do."

That pulls Ryan up short. He lets his gaze slide consideringly over Sam, as if he hadn't already made up his mind a split second ago. "Three thousand," he murmurs. "And you wear a rubber."

"Fair enough," Sam says, mulling the offer over. "But I start with your mouth and I get to strip the rubber off and come _on_ your ass when I finish."

Ryan thinks about it for a few moments, then gives a judicious nod. "All right. Where do you want to do this?"

"Doesn't look like we have any company here," Sam says, taking a good look around again before pushing his door open.

Automatically Ryan scans their surroundings, reflexively checking to make sure no one's watching -- no one's even there to watch. Sam circles the car and Ryan's breath catches at the smooth movement of muscles, the relaxed grace of someone who is clearly comfortable in his own body. _Fuck, yes_. He meets Sam in front of the car and reaches out to undo the man's belt.

"I assume you have a rubber?" Sam says, watching Ryan's hands, his face in the moonlight. "Since you're insisting on one."

"...Of course." _Fuck_ , Ryan thinks, because _of course_ he doesn't have a rubber on him. Why the fuck would he? He and Sam are monogamous - okay, almost entirely - and they've been going without condoms for more than a year now. But he digs his hand into his pocket anyway, and pretends to toss something to Sam. "There. Put that on," he orders, and drops to his knees on the gravel driveway.

"No fucking way," Sam says, shaking his head. "The deal was for the rubber when I'm fucking you."

It's kind of completely hilarious. They're pseudo-arguing over a pretend condom? Ryan could choke on his laughter if he lets himself lose his composure. "What, you think just because I'm a whore I should put myself at risk for herpes or whatever? Screw you, man."

"Fine. Half what we said and I'll settle for just fucking you," Sam says. " _With_ the rubber."

" _Just_ fucking me," Ryan mutters, turning his back to Sam. He drops his jeans to his knees and then leans over the hood of his car, bracing his hands and presenting his ass. "This is _not_ settling, I don't care who the fuck you are."

"Yeah? We'll see about that," Sam says, lining up and pushing in, hard, his nails digging into Ryan's hips as he forces himself deeper.

Ryan shouts, the sound loud in the stillness. " _Fuck!_ " he yelps again, bracing more firmly and pushing out to make it a little easier on himself. "Can't afford a little finesse, huh?" he spits out. "How long has it been?"

Sam laughs, leaning over Ryan, hips thrusting sharply until he's all the way in. "Didn't realize whores needed finesse," he says, amused, savouring the tight heat of the other man's body with a low groan.

"I didn't--" Ryan cuts himself off with a moan. Fuck, he's got no snappy banter, not with that thick cock filling him so perfectly. He bears down, keeping Sam right where he is for a moment before releasing him again.

"God, you are so fucking tight," Sam murmurs, taking his own sweet time, the whole fucking world around them just falling away.

"I'm choosy," Ryan mutters, even though it probably doesn't seem like it at the moment. But the attraction he feels towards this man is fucking magnetic. As the engine cools he leans farther down onto the car, opening himself up even more. 

"Only when it comes to money," Sam murmurs, angling his hips so he can go even deeper. Fuck. He can't remember the last time he fit this fucking perfectly inside someone. "When was the last time you were fucked?" he asks, sliding his hands upwards, his fingers closing around Ryan's wrists, pinning him to the hood as he moves into him. Again and again.

"None of your goddamn business," Ryan answers, and _shit_ , now he's just trying not to melt. Those hands pinning him down feel so fucking good, relaxing him even as his erection rages full and hot.

"No?" Sam pulls out, right to the tip, shifting the angle before he drives back in, making sure he hits that sweet spot with each and every thrust.

"Ohh, Jesus." Ryan shifts again, trying to wriggle himself into a position where his prick can get some friction already. "Fuck, yes. Just like that." Shit, he's so easy.

The other man's pleasure sounds awfully genuine which only adds to Sam's own as he fucks into that incredibly tight heat, his balls starting to draw up, his cock throbbing dangerously. "You gonna come for me?" he murmurs, mouth pressed to Ryan's ear.

Ryan's body jerks with shock, and he barely holds back from babbling agreement. "Yes," he gasps, and stuns himself when he unthinkingly adds, "sir."

It takes every ounce of willpower Sam has to hold on right then. To not just come and fill his lover's ass with his seed. "Do it," he growls, slamming in so roughly now his whole body aches with his thrusts. "Fucking paint the hood with it, boy."

With a whine Ryan tries to tug his arms from Sam's hold, reflexively tries to get a hand free so he can jack himself off. But Sam is too strong, and the angle not in Ryan's favour, and that combination right there does it: he bucks against the hood of his car and comes with a wordless cry, hot spray marring the waxed finish.

Sam's got no hope in hell after that. He shoves in deep, slams in once more and then shouts, his head thrown back, as his orgasm crashes over him.

Dizzy, reeling, Ryan gasps for breath and doesn't even try to move. He can still feel his lover, so hot and deep inside him, and even out here in the dark, sneaking around in Celia's citrus grove, the intimacy of this moment just blows Ryan's mind.

Pressing a kiss to Ryan's shoulder, Sam hugs Ryan, his cock throbbing once more. "I love you so much," he whispers, in absolutely no hurry to move at all.

"Uh-huh." It's not the most romantic of responses. But it's really the best Ryan can manage in this instant. Shifting his weight, he drops one hand down to cover Sam's, linking their fingers together. "Wonder if it'll rain tomorrow."

Sam chuckles at that and brushes his lips over Ryan's shoulder again. "It might," he murmurs, smiling softly. "You never know."

[To chapter fifty-four](http://archiveofourown.org/works/910838)


End file.
